The Cowardly Killer
by peacekeeper364
Summary: Johanna Mason is hard, ruthless and mean. Have you ever wondered how that happened? Johanna Mason's story. The sixty-eighth Hunger Games.
1. The Reaping

Author's Note: Johanna's story. And I know, Peter Lemmark, haha.

_The Cowardly Killer_

_The Reaping_

I wake up with a groan. "Good morning, Johanna," says Kimberly, the woman who manages the orphanage where I've lived since I was nine. "You'd better get up, the reaping starts at twelve," she adds roughly.

I groan again, slamming the pillow into my head. The reaping. This is where the tributes for the annual Hunger Games are chosen. The Hunger Games are a fight to the death on live television with twenty-four kids between the ages of twelve and eighteen competing. Here in District Seven, it's just an unpleasant occasion that we put up with because the Capitol makes us. I'm fifteen, so this year, the Sixty-Eighth Hunger Games, my name will be in the glass ball in the town square four times. Slim odds compared to the skinny, poor kids from the other side of the district, who sign up every year for tesserae.

I roll out of bed and look at a clock mounted on the wall. Eleven-thirty, much earlier than I would usually get out of bed on a reaping day.

After Kimberly forces me into a long green dress, the entire population of the community home (about forty kids and five adults) walk past the large paper factories and sawmills in our district before arriving in the town square. I see some of the kids from my school snicker at us as we walk past. I clench my fists and my teeth and continue walking.

There are three chairs on the stage before us. Sitting in them are the mayor, the District Seven escort, Sirocco Paddock, and the mentor and past winner of our district, Peter Lemmark. There's no female mentor because, to be quite frank, District Seven has never had a female victor.

The mayor tells the dreary, stupid story of Panem. Then, he reads the list of District Seven's past tributes. Three men. That's it.

Sirocco Paddock hops onto stage. "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" she declares. She rambles on for a while about the honor of being here and how excited she is to be our district's escort, again. Then, with barely a notice, she more or less skips toward the glass ball with all of the girls names in it. She pulls out a single slip of paper and smiles. I'm wondering wonder which unlucky girl will die in the Hunger Games this year when she reads the name on the paper.

"Johanna Mason!"

Oh, that unlucky girl.

Usually, I'm so hard. I handled my mother's death without a tear, and dealt with Kimberly's less-than-nice shouting fests without wavering. But, for some reason, something snaps inside, and I start to cry. I must look like a sniveling, cowardly fool, but I hardly care.

I'm going to die.

Sirocco seems very awkward as she congratulates me, and the applause that comes afterward is tight and tense. Nobody volunteers to take my place, but who would? There's no reason why they should.

The boy's name that is drawn is Jayden Ashfield. I close my eyes, hoping he isn't big enough to kill me. When I open them, there isn't a human boy standing beside me.

There's a giant.

It doesn't matter. The kids from Districts One, Two and Four, who have been training their entire lives for this, they'll probably kill me before Jayden ever gets a chance. They're what we call the Career Tributes.

After the playing of the anthem of our country, Panem, we are taken into the justice building to say goodbye to our loved ones. The peacekeepers who brought me in have just left when Kimberly bursts in. She doesn't look happy. "Look," she mutters. "Just don't disgrace yourself out there, and good luck." She leaves briskly. Huh, that wasn't exactly heartfelt, but she's busy and she still took time to say goodbye, which is good.

Nobody else comes, but I'm lucky I got Kimberly. Besides, I've started crying again. _What is wrong with me today?_ I wonder.

I approach the car that will bring us to the station. Jayden is waiting there. His eyes are dark and unfeeling and his face turns into a scowl when he sees me. Whether it's because I'll soon be trying to kill him or because he can see my red eyes, I can't tell you.

When we reach the train that will take us to the Capitol, Jayden turns to me. "You ready?" he asks gruffly.

I sigh, looking at my district, my home. The place to which I will never return. "No," I whisper, my eyes growing blurry once more. "Not really."


	2. Becoming the Coward and the Killer

Author's Note: Hope you guys liked the first chapter. Here's the second one. Please review! I'm really sorry it takes me so long to update this.

_Becoming the Coward and the Killer_

As soon as the train leaves the station, my breath is taken away. We're going faster than I thought possible on one of those trains from the Capitol. In fact, we could be at the Capitol by nightfall.

Even more impressive than the speed is the food. After a quick change of clothes, Jayden, Sirocco, Peter and I gather in the dining car for an early dinner. The dinner is served in courses, but any one of those courses is more food than I would usually see in any single day. I've never exactly gone hungry, but I wasn't really well off. As if the amount of food wasn't enough, there's the taste. Oh my gosh! Never have I eaten such delicacies! A luscious, thick soup filled with a meats I can't begin to guess the name of. A salad of greens, a main dish of potatoes and lamb, a cheese plate, even a cake. I'm stuffing myself and I know everyone (even Jayden) is looking at me with disgust, but I don't care. I just want to eat.

Conversation at dinner is light, but unimportant. At the very least, much less important to me than the food.

After dinner, we go into another room to watch the reapings. The officials have actually managed to get them almost finished by now, though we're watching the reaping in District Twelve as it's happening. They're held about a half-hour apart, so people in the Capitol can watch it all live.

Watch as one victor is chosen along with twenty-three kids being sent to die. It makes me sick. Then again, that could just be the food...

After watching the reapings, we all return to our rooms. I walk into my personal bathroom and take a shower. Well, I do after spending about an hour staring at the controls. When I finally get it going, I'm pleasantly surprised. It's warm and relaxing.

After my shower, I change into a flowing long-sleeved red shirt and black pants. I look in the mirror. _Not bad,_ I think with a smile, turning around. I walk around the room, suddenly bored. Eventually, I flop on the bed with nothing to do. This, of course, gives me time to think.

I've always hated this particular time.

The first thing that comes to my mind is the first day that I was an orphan. My mother was working in the sawmill, and I was home alone, playing with a small wooden doll she had made for me. I had just turned eight. Suddenly, a peacekeeper came to my door, and told me that my mother had died in an industrial accident. He tried to drag me to the community home, but I grabbed my doll and took to the streets, living off scraps of food and making fires from the shavings of wood I gathered near the mill. I lived for more than a year this way, but I knew it couldn't last forever. A few months after my ninth birthday, I was found and taken to the community home.

The home was my own personal prison. We were only allowed outside for school, an hour of work and the occasional hour or two we were allowed to go outside and play in a small, fenced-off area the caretakers called the play area. We called it the pigpen. Kimberly was never exactly nice, but the manager and main caretaker who came before her, Derek, was _really _mean. During the four years he was in charge, beatings weren't uncommon, and just sneaking outside for a couple of minutes could earn you a hard slap across the face. For the first year I was in the home, I never left there without bruises. After that, I became clever enough to avoid beatings.

Suddenly, the door to the room opens and Peter steps in, closing the door quickly behind him. "We'll be in the Capitol in an hour," he says, sitting on the bed next to me.

"Oh," I mutter. "Good." There's a cold tension between us. It's not that I have anything against Peter, but it's hard to like someone who's about to lead you to your death.

When he doesn't say anything else right away, I get to really look at him for the first time. He's not much older than I am, having won the Hunger Games three years ago at fifteen. He has straight black hair that has grown out a bit, sometimes covering his eyes. He looks like he could be from District Twelve, except he's cuter...

_Oh stop, Johanna,_ a voice cries inside my head. _He's about to lead you to your death..._

_But he's also going to help you survive..._

I push the thought to the back of my head when Peter finally says something. "You need to have a strategy if you want to have a chance at this thing." He looks into my eyes, and I look into his eyes. His beautiful, big, gray eyes...

"Well, what do you think my strategy should be?" I ask.

"I need to know what you can do before I answer," he says with a smile. "So, what _can _you do?"

"I can throw an axe with distance and accuracy," I say. "But so can pretty much everyone in District Seven, as you should know."

"Maybe they can, but all of District Seven equals one opponent in the arena. What else?" he asks with another smile, as if he knows there's something else.

I smile back. "I can throw a spear and swing a mace. I can start a decent fire and build a shelter," I think back to my year before going to the community home. "I'm good with a sword, but for some reason, I can't shoot an arrow to save my life." I almost laugh at the irony of what I've just said.

Peter scowls at me. "You can do all that, but you can't keep from crying at the reaping?" Suddenly, a look of realization brightens his features. "I know what your strategy will be," he whispers.

I'm suspicious, but I hand him the line anyway. "What will it be?"

He smiles. "You'll start the games acting like an incompetent coward. You'll run and never fight. Any competitor in his right mind will ignore you. Then, when there's only a handful of people left... you'll take the field full force. You'll become the coward, then the killer."

"Will people still sponsor me?" I ask.

"They will when you start fighting. Besides, you won't need much help anyway if what you told me is true."

I still didn't trust Peter or his strategy, but what else could I do? "Will it work?" I ask.

"It should," he says.

Suddenly, the train stops. "Hm," remarks Peter. "We're early." He stands, a hard, determined look coming to his face. "Let the games begin," he whispers gently.


	3. Getting Ready

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Please enjoy chapter 3!

_Getting Ready_

While I was talking to Peter, I completely missed the fact that we spent about five minutes going through a tunnel carved into a mountain that led to the heart of the Capitol. Now, I run to the window in the dining car to see the famous Capitol. I gasp. It looked like melted crayons that kids play with had rained on the city. Every color imaginable is incorporated into the buildings, the clothing, even the skin color of the people. It's amazingly beautiful. Even Jayden, who has shown almost no emotion since the reaping, seems impressed.

People start to get excited when they see the train. Remembering my strategy, I smile nervously, wave shyly and let my knees shake as much as they want to. Jayden looks at me with disgust for the second time today. "Pathetic," he mutters. He doesn't wave, smile or give any sign that he's nervous.

As soon as we step off the train, Jayden and I are hurried into the Remake Center and ushered into two separate rooms. I'm made to sit on a table while two men named Gladius and Zeus and a young woman named Athena bounce into the room, giggling and speaking in their stupid Capitol accent.

Then the torture begins.

Apparently, my stylist will only come to see me after the "main problems" have been taken care of. This means that I must sit for about four hours while they remove hair from every part of my body except the top of my head, very painfully turn my nails into the right shape, scrub me down with foam (again, very painfully), then grease me. The last part hurts at first, but then cools and soothes my skin. They're trying to keep me as covered as possible, but I'm really not self-conscious of my body. I don't say anything about it though.

Finally, I come face to face with one of the stupidest people in Panem. My stylist, Flora. She looks even more primped and dyed than the rest of the Capitol, and she's about sixty years old, even though she's obviously trying to look about half that age. "Hello, Johanna," she squeaks, speaking in an accent that promises me she's lived in the Capitol her whole life.

"Hi," I mutter nervously.

"Follow me," she says.

I follow her into a room that, except for one wall and the floor, looks as if it's entirely made of glass. She sits on some sort of couch made from a see-through plastic that looks like glass, while I take a seat on a glass bench.

"I know it's late," says Flora. "But this won't take long." She babbles on for about a half hour about what an honor it is to be my stylist, her fellow stylist Jacob, and some other useless chatter that I don't understand. I'm too tired to understand. Finally, she says we're done talking. Sirocco enters as if she's been told exactly when to do so, and tells me to follow her.

I'm brought to the Training Center, and led to a tower where I will live until I enter the arena. I step into an elevator with Sirocco and Jayden (where did he come from?) and press the number seven button (District Seven, seventh floor, good system). We're shown our rooms and told that the opening ceremonies will happen whenever District Twelve shows up, probably tomorrow evening, as well as to get a good night's sleep.

The next evening, I'm standing on a chariot with Jayden standing next to me. The chariot is going to be pulled by four horses with brown coats and green ribbons braided into their manes, once the opening ceremonies start. Jayden and I are dressed as trees. No surprise there. I can't remember a year when the tributes from District Seven _weren't_ dressed as trees. Nobody who's still alive in our district can remember when we weren't dressed as trees. We have been dressed as trees for no less than thirty-five years.

I take a moment to look around at the costumes from other districts. District One tributes are wearing black outfits covered in jewels. The tributes from District Three have wires hanging off them in every way possible. The costumes from District Twelve are the most pitiful. They're wearing skimpy black outfits that look like bathing suits, and hats with headlamps. It makes me glad I'm a tree.

Suddenly, the music starts and the District One tributes leave. There's a lot of cheering, then District Two follows them into the streets of the Capitol. District Three, District Four, District Five, District Six...

Suddenly, Peter appears beside our chariot. He mouths something to Jayden, then turns to me and mouths the word 'coward'.

The Capitol cheers as we leave. It's not as loud as the cheer for District One, but I have to admit that I'm surprised their cheering at all. I bow my head, only lifting it occasionally so the crowd can see my face. Beside me, Jayden stands tall, strong and proud. He looks invincible. We must look strange, complete opposites standing within inches of each other.

We finally enter the City Circle. When the remaining five districts join us, the music ends and President Snow (who's been around for as long as I can remember and will probably still be president for years to come) gives the official welcome. After that, the national anthem plays. Then, we go to the Training Center. Sirocco and Peter gives us a couple of compliments and we go to our rooms.

I was so tired last night that I didn't really look at the room. Now, I see that it is full of buttons and programs to keep me comfortable. I don't get much time to look at them before Sirocco calls me down to dinner.

After Sirocco, Peter, Flora, Jacob, Jayden and I sit at the table, a silent servant called an Avox offers us wine. I refuse, then feel stupid when everyone else accepts. I focus on the food. It isn't as good as the stuff on the train, but it's still delicious. The chatter is light and unimportant.

After supper, we go into a sitting room and watch a recap of the opening ceremonies. There's nobody that really stands out to me, but I do hear the adults whisper about certain tributes. The tributes from Districts One, Two and Four (otherwise known as the Careers), the girl from District Six, both tributes from District Nine, and the boy from District Twelve.

Peter tells us that the first training will be the next morning. We'll figure out exactly what strategy we want to use.

The next morning, after a quick shower, I head to the dining room. Peter and Jayden are already there. Jayden looks nice, but Peter looks nicer... I shake my head, clearing my mind, then load up my plate and join them.

"All right, so, do you know how training works?" asks Peter. Jayden and I nod. Basically, you get three days to learn whatever you can with the other tributes and practise your strategy. Then, on the last afternoon, you show your skills to the Gamemakers. They give you a score of one to twelve (twelve being the best) so the sponsors know who to spend their money on.

"Okay, so do you want to train together or separately?" Peter asks.

"Separately" Jayden and I say in unison.

"Jayden, go to your quarters for a while. I'll come get you after Johanna finishes eating."

Jayden leaves.

"So," says Peter, turning to me. "You're job is just to keep up the coward act. Work on your survival skills. If you absolutely _have_ to use the weapons, try human snares or archery..."

"I'm awful at archery!" I declare.

"I know, that's the point," says Peter.

I hesitate. "What about for my private session?" I ask.

It's Peter's turn to hesitate. "Same thing. The other tributes will take you seriously with a high score, even if you're weak in training."

"Fine," I mutter. "Training starts at ten, right?"

After Peter confirms that training starts at ten, I go to my room so Peter can discuss strategy with Jayden.

When training is scheduled to begin, I meet Sirocco and Jayden at the elevator and we go to the below ground level of the building. Someone pins a number seven on my back, as the last tributes arrive. A woman named Atala explains the training schedule and the rules, then sets us loose to do what we want.

The Careers and Jayden try to intimidate the field, while the others shakily use weapons for the first time or try to blend in. I spend the day learning to make a better fire, shelter and which plants and insects are edible.

At lunch, we eat together in the dining room. The Careers eat together, everyone else eats alone. Suddenly, the little girl from District Eight, named Lilac, who's twelve years old, catches my eye. She's coming towards me. She asks me if I want to be her ally. I agree, quickly, like in a dream.

The next two days pass in much the same way. Lilac and I stay together, and I actually manage to learn a couple of things while still appearing weak and helpless. On the third day, the Gamemakers start calling people in for their private sessions.

When my name is called, I simply show them my fire-making skills and a couple of other things. Against my better judgement, I show them that I'm not completely incompetent without a knife as well. They tell me I can leave. I bow and leave the room.

Training was extremely uneventful, except for gaining an ally.

That evening, they televise the scores the Gamemakers gave us in our private sessions. The Careers get from eight-to-ten. Most of the others average about six. Jayden manages a nine, and it isn't hard to imagine how. I mean, he's huge! I get a four.

Peter tells us that we'll start preparing for the interviews tomorrow and tells us to get some sleep.

As I lie in bed, I can't help thinking about what I've been doing for the past three days, what I'm doing, and what I'll keep doing tomorrow. I'm getting ready. Getting ready to go to the arena.

Getting ready to die.


	4. I Need to Survive for Them

_I need to survive for them_

I quickly get out of bed in the morning and go downstairs. Today is the day I will train for my interview in front of the entire nation. It will probably be my last chance to convince the other tributes how helpless and weak I am, even if it means that the rest of Panem thinks I am, too.

When I get downstairs, Sirocco, Peter and Jayden are already eating. Peter informs me that we'll have four hours each with Sirocco and four hours with Peter. I can't imagine what event besides the games themselves would take eight hours to prepare for.

I start with Peter. He tells me that every tribute will play up an angle. The one I'm going to use is obvious. Weak, helpless, cowardly. We basically spend our four hours perfecting this. It is very boring, and I can't help hoping that Sirocco will help me more.

I really have to start being careful what I wish for.

The dress Sirocco puts me in is okay. I don't trip up in it, though I can imagine that many girls would. The shoes are a different story altogether. I'm six inches taller when I step into them, and it's nearly impossible to walk. When I finally manage to walk ten steps without falling, Sirocco hurries me along to posture and smiling. I don't bother mentioning that if I'm a coward, I won't need to smile very often. Peter obviously hasn't told her my strategy. He might want it to remain a secret. Eventually, Sirocco smiles at me and declares that I'm ready. I'm nowhere near ready, but if I argue, I will face more walking and teaching, so I just smile and nod.

After dinner, I go straight to bed. I toss and turn for an hour before finally deciding that as tired as I am, I won't get to sleep.

I carefully get out of bed and tiptoe to the elevator. I press the number eight. The elevator shoots up one floor and I step out gently. I approach one of the rooms and open the door. A small figure lays in the bed. "Lilac," I whisper. "Are you asleep?"

Lilac bolts upright. "Johanna," she snaps. "Do you know what time it is? You shouldn't be here!"

"So, do you want me to leave?"

"No!" she cries. She's too loud and she knows. She silently moves over so I can sit with her.

"Lilac," I whisper. "Are you nervous about the Hunger Games?"

She hesitates, then nods. "I'm not sure why, though," she mutters. "I already know that I won't win."

"Don't think like that!" I exclaim. "You don't know that for sure."

She looks at me and smiles. "Johanna, I'm twelve. I've never done anything that could help me in the arena. I have nobody to think about to motivate me." She examines me from head to toe. "When you act cowardly, it's an act. When I act that way, I'm being myself." I'm startled. Have I been that obvious?

She examines me again, her eyes serious. "You need to win," she says. "Milo, the boy from my district, is just a big brat. You have to win for me."

There's a long, awkward silence. "Do you have a district token?" she asks.

I nod. "A little necklace. I didn't even mean for it to be a token. I was just wearing it when I got here. Do you have one?" I ask.

"Yeah," says Lilac with a shrug. "It's just a little wooden ball."

After another silence, she whispers something close to my ear. "Do you promise you'll win?"

My voice catches in my throat. I want to tell her to stop being negative, but, in a way, she's right. What chance does a girl who's only twelve, who can't hold a sword, who got a two in training because she confided in me that she can't do anything, have against an eighteen-year-old boy with a mace?

"I promise," I whisper. I leave the room quickly.

The next day, Gladius, Zeus and Athena are standing over me when I wake up. I scream in shock. They're about three inches away from my face, as if I'm an interesting insect. Have the people in the Capitol never heard of personal space?

They spend the the morning doing my nails, painting them, covering my body in elaborate decorations and carefully washing my hair.

When Flora walks in, she slips a dress over my head, then makes me step into flat shoes (thank goodness). Finally, she says I can see myself.

I turn toward the mirror. I can hardly believe I thought Flora was an idiot, even though I'll probably think that again tomorrow. I'm a tree. My dress starts green at the top, fading into brown at the bottom. The shoes are a darker shade of brown. The patterns on my body show leaves that turn into bark down my arms and on my legs. I'm wearing green lipstick and green eyeshadow, along with green color contact lenses. My hair has green stripes clipped into it, which looks a little bit strange, but the spikiness makes it look like leaves. I smile. "Not bad," I say.

Flora smiles. This is probably the only compliment she has ever received. I still don't really like her, but I do wish I could get to know her better.

Sirocco, Peter, Jacob and Jayden are waiting at the elevator. Jacob is wearing a plain brown suit with green accents at the ends of the sleeves and the bottom of the pants.

We line up with the other tributes, ready to go on stage. Suddenly, Peter appears beside me and pulls me into darkness a few metres from the line. He kisses me gently on the cheek and smiles. "Good luck," he whispers before putting me back in line beside Jayden. He comes into the light looking as if nothing has happened.

I'm still tingling when I walk on stage.

I take my place in the thirteenth chair in the line on the stage. Caesar Flickerman appears. I like Caesar. He tries to help the tributes if their nervous. He's about as decent as a person can be when they've grown up in the Capitol. His lipstick, eyeshadow and hair are all yellow. Not blond, _yellow_. Oh well, if I keep my head down, I won't have to look at him and his creepy looks.

When the tribute from District One seats herself in front of him she flashes a smile at the audience. She must be going for a likable approach. Interesting. Caesar smiles back at her and starts right away. "So, Sunny..."

Each interview lasts three minutes. I do try to pay attention to the angles each tribute is playing up. The Careers all do great, and the girl from District Six is fierce. Suddenly, all too soon, it's my turn.

It ends up being okay. It's not that hard. All I have to do is avoid eye contact, play with the skirt of my dress and make my voice squeak.

The interviews continue. Jayden is hostile. Lilac is cute and sweet. Milo is a brat. The tributes from District Nine are insanely funny. My sides hurt by the time the girl from District Ten steps up. The boy from District Twelve is using the same strategy as Jayden. Then, it's over.

After dinner, we say farewell to Peter and Sirocco, because only Flora and Jacob will come with us to the arena itself.

Sirocco smiles, though there are tears in her eyes. She tells us how lucky she was to meet us, and that she hopes to work with one of us next year. I didn't get to know her as well as I thought I would, but a couple of tears escape my eyes, too.

Then, we must say good-bye to Peter. The tears come harder. He tells us he's proud of us. Whether or not we fight at the Cornucopia is our choice. He seems lost for words then. Jayden says good-bye then quickly leaves.

Peter looks at me. It may just be a trick of the light, but I think I can see some tears in his eyes. "You know your strategy," he says.

Then, because it's Peter, he decides to surprise me. He leans down, planting a kiss on my lips. This is much more powerful than the kiss from earlier. This is real. "I love you, Johanna," he whispers. "Please, come back."

I smile. "I won't be gone long," I whisper back.

"Remember that I love you," he mutters. I can see through the streams in my eyes that he doesn't expect me to come back. For a moment, _I_ don't expect to come back. Then, I realize I don't have a choice. I need to survive. For Peter, for Lilac, and for me.

Surprisingly, I fall asleep almost immediately. However, I wake up at about three in the morning. Unable to fall asleep again, I creep over to Jayden's room and crack open the door.

"You couldn't sleep either?" asks Jayden from where he lays on the bed.

I shake my head and join him. After an awkward silence, I finally manage to say something. "Jayden, how many slips did you have in the reaping ball?"

He chuckles quietly. "A lot. Small wonder I got picked."

"How many?"

He sighs. "I'm eighteen. My father and mother were both injured when a tree fell the wrong way, so tesserae and odd jobs were the only way to keep us alive. I took out tesserae for myself, my mother, my father, and my six younger brothers and sisters every year." He smiles. "How many is that?"

I'm sitting with my mouth half open now. "S-seventy," I whisper.

Jayden nods.

I think about Jayden's family, about how much they need him. I think that he needs to survive as much as I do. "Jayden," I begin. "Do you want to be allies?"

To my surprise, he laughs.

"Johanna, no offense, but I want to live," he says. "You're a weak coward. Your only ally is that girl from District Eight, and that's just because she's desperate. You won't last two seconds in the arena." He turns to me, a scowl on his face. "You'd just slow me down."

I want to tell him everything. I want to tell him I'm acting. I want to tell him how strong I am. I want to tell him it's all an act, but no words come out of my mouth.

As I leave the room, Jayden shakes his head. "Pathetic," he mutters.

At dawn, Flora comes into my room, he face expressionless. She gives me a simple outfit that isn't very fashionable, then guides me to the roof, where we're picked up by a hovercraft. Once we're there, a woman injects a tracker in my arm. Then, I'm left to wait for about two hours while we fly.

When we land, Flora and I travel through underground tunnels until we get to my Launch Room, from where I will enter the arena.

I make myself look as good as I can. After all, once I'm in the arena, I may not get a chance to ever get clean. I get my outfit, the one every tribute will wear. There's some simple but comfortable black boots, black pants, dark green shirt and black jacket. Flora tells me the arena will be dark (thus the black) and cold (which explains why the clothes are so warm that I'm already sweating). She doesn't expect there to be snow, though. Finally, she gives me the small silver necklace. On it is a small green and brown swirl.

Flora and I stand close, hand in hand, in my puddle of sweat, until a voice tells us it's time to prepare for the launch.

I step onto a metal plate. Flora smiles at me. "Johanna, I look forward to seeing you again next year. Please, try your best." Great, now I have to add _Flora_ to the list of people I need to survive for.

A glass cylinder lowers around me, and I rise into the arena.

The first thing I hear is the voice of the announcer of the Hunger Games, Claudius Templesmith. "Ladies and gentlemen, let the Sixty-eighth Hunger Games begin!"


	5. I Promise

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who read and everyone who reviewed. I'm glad you're enjoying it! (I'm also glad I finally got the tributes to the arena!) I know I introduced the Peter-and-Johanna romance really quickly. Sorry about that.

_I Promise_

Every tribute has to wait sixty seconds after Claudius Templesmith's announcement so we can observe our surroundings and the camera can capture our images. If you don't wait, or if anything lands on the ground next to your circle, you blow up.

I try to slump forward on my metal circle, looking as helpless and weak as I can while still taking in the sight around me. About one hundred-fifty feet from where I stand is the Cornucopia, a giant horn made from solid gold, which is full of weapons and survival equipment. Surrounding us is a forest. Trees of every possible size and shape are hidden in each other's branches. The woods are dangerous, but they're safer than this clearing.

Directly across from me, almost hidden by the Cornucopia, is Lilac. I'm wondering why she's so far away when I look to my left. There's the girl from District Three. Okay, the Capitol has arranged us randomly this year. Good. The farther away I am from Jayden, the better.

That's when it happens.

Lilac's fingers twitch the wrong way, and her district token, the tiny ball, falls to the ground. She screams.

The blast is extraordinary.

The ground around Lilac explodes, leaving a black crater and no little girl. The tributes who were standing next to her, the girl from District Twelve and the boy from District Three are screaming and crying on their metal plates, with their hearing destroyed and burns covering their faces. They'll be dead before the bloodbath even really begins. I'm not sure if they fired a cannon signaling her death. Probably. She didn't die in the bloodbath. The Capitol doesn't usually bother to fire cannons until after the initial fighting ends because the deaths are so hard to keep track of...

Suddenly, my mind absorbs what just happened. "Lilac!" I scream. I wail for about thirty seconds, then the gong sounds.

I run, shaking my head as I go to clear the tears. I'm by far the first one to the Cornucopia. I grab two backpacks, an axe and a couple of knives. While I'm running away with my arms full, I also manage to get a mace.

Just before I scamper into the woods, I turn around for an instant. About six or seven tributes have escaped, but the rest are fighting it out at the Cornucopia. The boy from District Three and the girl from District Twelve are dead on their metal plates.

I race into the forest, being careful to watch where I put my feet. I'm going uphill, and getting tired quickly. The packs are getting too heavy and I know I won't be able to go much longer with both of them.

Out of nowhere, cannons start to fire. Each shot represents a dead tribute. I count them. Twelve shots, and that may or may not include Lilac. So, not even one day in, there are only eleven or twelve tributes left. That's the purpose of the bloodbath. I continue to run.

Suddenly, I emerge into a desert with boulders everywhere. I look back at the woods, then at the desert. This isn't natural, the climate doesn't change that much that quickly. The Gamemakers have created this place, I'm sure. When I see a small cave, though, I'm perfectly happy staying here. I've covered a lot of ground and it's already early evening. I might as well stay put, even if it's just for one night.

I dump the contents of both backpacks onto the floor of the cave an lay the weapons next to them. There are two backpacks, a large dark green one and a small orange one. I know how to carry all of the things now. I'll put whatever I need into the green backpack and whatever I don't into the orange one, then leave the orange one in the cave when I leave tomorrow. Carefully, I make three empty spaces for three piles. One will be things I need, one will be things I will take if there's room in the backpack, and one will be things I want to get rid of. Happy with my strategy, I begin to sort.

I need the axe. It's my best weapon. I decide not to put it in the backpack, but carry it with me. I also take the one of the knives, but put the other in the "take if there's room" pile. I'm not sure what to do with the mace, so I leave it alone for now. The backpacks contained two large water bottles, full, a package of dried fruit, plenty of iodine, a small book, more knives, some matches, a bow and a sheath of arrows. Quickly, I break the bow and each individual arrow. Despite my time in the Training Center, I still can't shoot straight and if I can't use it, I should make sure no one else can, either. I put the bottles of water in the "must take" pile. I also take the iodine, the matches and the dried fruit. The backpack will be almost full of the stuff I need to take now. I consider putting the book in the orange backpack, but it's a book about edible plants. I keep it. I pick up the mace and the axe and put the backpack on my back, full of the things I'm taking, to feel it for weight. It feels good. Then, I quickly put the orange backpack in another cave, and get ready to sleep in the first one.

The seal of the Capitol appears in the sky, while the national anthem plays. When the anthem finishes, the tributes who are left will get to see the pictures of those that have died. The audience knows who's dead already, but it's helpful in the arena to know who you're up against.

The sky goes dark for a moment, then the pictures start to appear. First, the girl from District Three, who stood next to me at the Cornucopia. Then, the boy from her district, who was standing next to Lilac. The girl from Five, which means all the Careers made it. No surprise there. The boy from Five. Both from Six, there's the girl who acted so fierce at the interviews. Lilac. Both from Nine. I almost feel bad. They were the comedians, the ones who seemed so happy, so cheerful, so sure they would make it... The boy from Ten. Both tributes from District Eleven. The girl from Twelve, the other person standing near Lilac. The Capitol's seal reappears and the music ends.

I go through who's left. The Careers, that's six. Me, Jayden, the boy from District Eight, the girl from District Ten and the boy from District Twelve, who also acted fierce.

A fat tear falls onto the floor of the cave. Wow. I'm crying more today than I did on the day of the reaping. I think of Lilac, of Peter, of my hopeless situation and of my mother...

My tears turn into full sobs. "Mama," I whisper to the air. "Are you there?"

How many times did I do this when I was eight years old? Cry for my mother without an answer? The day she died was the worst day of my life and I'm not going to pretend it wasn't.

Carefully, I crawl out of my cave and look at the stars. I try to smile. "You never thought your baby girl would be in the Hunger Games did you?" I whisper to the sky. "Are you proud of me?" Every star glitters in response. "Someday, Mama, I'll go up there with you. We'll never be hungry, and we can sing like we used to. Maybe I'll even get to meet my dad. You always said I was just like him."

The trees sigh from the forest as I continue. "Mama, can you do me a favor? Can you take care of Lilac for me?"

There's no sound, but I'm sure she will. She always said she would do anything for me.

I crawl back into the cave, feeling more lonely than I ever have before. Slowly, I pick up my mace. Then I put it back down. Maybe I could go around, eating every plant I find, poisonous or not, until I see my mother again. Who would pay for it? Not me, not my mother, not District Seven...

_"Please come back."_

_"Please, try your best."_

_"Do you promise you'll win?"_

_"I promise."_

I promised.

I groan, smacking my head against the wall of the cave in anger. I have to try. I promised so many people I would. What's the worst that could happen? If I win, I go back to a life of ease in District Seven and a life with Peter. If I don't, I get to see Lilac and my a little bit angry, I let myself fall asleep.

My dream is better than I would have dared ask for.

I'm sitting beside a lake full of starlight. I don't know where I am, but it certainly isn't in District Seven, or in the Capitol. Peter comes up beside me and sits next to me. He kisses me on the cheek. "Remember," he whispers. "I love you."

I'm surprised when Lilac comes. She's dead and Peter's living. Why are they in the same dream? Oh well, I guess when you're sleeping, anything can happen. Lilac gently presses something into my hand. It's her wooden ball. "Good luck, Johanna," she says before leaving.

My last visitor is the one I'm most grateful for. "Mama," I cry as she approaches.

"Hello, Johanna," she says in her soft, musical voice. She bends over so she is my height and strokes my cheek. Stars, glimmering like pixie dust from old stories, are left wherever she touches. "A tip for the future, my dear," she whispers. "You must protect the mockingjay."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

She doesn't say anything else. She just smiles, but I hear her voice in my head. _I'm always here, Johanna. All you have to do is think about me. And don't worry, I'll take care of Lilac._

I slowly open my eyes. I just sit there for a few minutes, drinking from one of the water bottles and remembering my dream. I have to try to win. I'm certain the dream was for motivation. Why else would all the people I care about come to see me?

Quickly, I pack up my things and put the backpack on. With my mace in one hand and my axe in the other, I decide that the best idea would be to go back to the woods. I run for a few minutes until the trees embrace me, then slow to a steady jog.

I've only been traveling for ten minutes when I hear a voice behind me. It's low and threatening. "Hello, Johanna."

Without even turning around, I begin to run.


	6. Running

Author's Note: Sorry it's taken me so long to update, my computer wasn't working for a while. Please read and review.

_Running_

I'm running because that's my strategy, not because I'm afraid. The voice belonged to Jayden. I can outrun him easily. I can kill him if the need arises. But, for now, I run.

Suddenly, a wall of rock appears in front of me. I'm standing at the bottom of a cliff.

Jayden is close behind. He's out of breath and looks wild. This isn't the same boy I knew. Sure, Jayden was hostile and thought I was a coward, but didn't the rest of Panem have the same idea? I get the feeling that more than one of the tributes I saw in the sky last nigh lost their lives to him.

He pulls a sword from his belt, snarling like a savage animal. "You're just being a nuisance now, Johanna," he says. "Forgive me, District Seven," he adds, looking at the sky.

He's coming toward me now, weapon raised. I'm just about to show him that I'm not the coward he thinks I am when there's a rustling in the bushes next to us. It's loud enough to make both of us turn. There's only one other tribute who could be big enough to make that kind of noise. It's the boy from District Twelve. I can't see him, and I have a feeling he can't see me and Jayden, either. He's the perfect target for a guy like Jayden, but only if he wants to forget about me to chase him.

Several emotions race across Jayden's face, then he scowls. Lowering his sword, he turns to me. "Don't worry, Johanna," he says. "I'll kill you soon. But, for now, I have better things to do. He runs into the trees, chasing the boy.

I stand there in shock for a moment. _My strategy actually worked! _I think. This is the first time it's really come in handy. I stand in the same spot for a while longer, then my stomach starts growling. Time to get some food.

I realize quickly that finding what I need will be harder than I think. I didn't spend nearly as much time at the edible plant section of the Training Center as I should have. I have my book, but the things in it don't seem to be growing in this area. I climb a tree, trying to see if there's an area that has more promise for food. My heart sinks. I'm travelling in a perfect circle of trees, surrounded by desert. There is an area farther off that looks good, but it might take me at two days to get there (wow, the arena is big this year). My body is certainly not ready to wait two days to eat. I decide that the sponsors are my only hope.

When I'm back on the ground, I sit with my back to the tree, trying to decide what to do. I need sponsors, but I probably don't have any as of right now. What I need is a chance to show my skills, but there seems to be no way of doing that without giving away my strategy. I decide to find show my skills to the audience without showing them to the other tributes. This seems to defeat my strategy in a way, but it doesn't seem like a have a choice. Anyway, what's the harm?

I grab a small leaf and pin it to the tree I climbed with my knife. Stepping back, I say quietly, "Citizens of the Capitol, I'm not who you think I am. I'm not a coward, and I'm not incompetent." I throw my axe. When I approach the tree, I see that the leaf has been cut in the middle. I smile. I throw the axe a few more times, then show some knife skill and practise with my mace. I decide that I also need to show some survival skills. There are many large rocks around me. Perfect. I lay them around the tree so I won't catch the entire woods on fire, then quickly set the tree alight, realizing an instant later how great this really is. It effectively destroys evidence of my skill, and will probably create a gathering of the remaining tributes, searching for a victim. I smile, then run away.

After I've been running about twenty minutes, I stop to rest. I've gone over a hill, so I can't see the fire, but I can see the smoke. I smile again. That'll bring the tributes together.

I sit down quietly to think about how I'm going to play the rest of the games. After my display, I obviously can't just keep bursting into tears whenever I'm alone. So, I transform into the girl I usually am, the girl who never shows emotion. I'll be the same girl I was at the orphanage. Of course, I won't completely get rid of the helpless, weepy version of me, either. I'll keep her around for when I'm faced with my opponents. I haven't given up on my strategy yet. Knowing what I'm going to do gives me a sense of relief.

Suddenly, a silver parachute appears above my head. It lands gently in my hand. Ripping the small package open, I find the two things I need the least. A small bottle of water and a bottle of iodine. I'm confused. Peter gets to control what gifts I get and when, so why has he picked this? I have the answer almost as soon as I have the question. _He doesn't know what you need, _I think. _You need to tell him._

"Food," I whisper.

Another parachute appears almost immediately. This one is attached to a basket. The basket contains a small pile of chicken, some rolls and a bowl of soup. I smile, this food would be pretty expensive, which means I must have at least three or four sponsors. I guess my little demonstration worked. I quickly eat a bit of chicken and the soup, then stand and continue to move.

It doesn't take me as long as I feared it would to make it to the woods on the other side of the desert. Actually, I'm there by nightfall. I'm stepping into the woods when the Capitol seal appears. There were no deaths today. That worries me. If the games become dull, the Gamemakers will probably send in some sort of animal, blockage or extreme weather to drive us closer together and make us fight. _Don't worry,_ I encourage myself silently. _You set a tree on fire, Jayden fought with the boy from Twelve and the Careers might be hunting someone down right now. You have nothing to worry about._ I don't have time to worry, anyway. My walk has tired me out and I'm very tired. I find a fallen tree with hundreds of tangled branches. I carefully hide myself among them and fall asleep in a few minutes.

The next morning, I wake up to a noise no more than forty feet away. Actually, it's several noises. Footsteps. I curse quietly under my breath. It must be the Career Tributes. They're trying to be quiet, though not doing a very good job, so they must be hunting. Unless someone came by last night and was better at being quiet, I'm the only tribute they're going to find. Besides that, I'm trapped. I grab my backpack, my mace and my axe, and wait quietly for them to pass.

Unfortunately, they seem to be in no hurry.

"Are you sure you saw them come this way?" asks the boy from District One.

"I'm sure," says the girl from Four. "They're the two biggest tributes in the arena. Besides, they were about as hard to spot as a couple of werewolves." It occurs to me that they're talking about Jayden and the boy from Twelve. Huh. I didn't think Jayden would chase the boy _this_ way.

"Then why haven't we found them yet?" snarls the girl from District One, who has obviously given up on the likable charade from the interviews.

"Listen," says the boy from Two calmly. "All this shouting is probably just chasing them away. Let's-" he breaks off suddenly. The Careers turn as one, looking at something in the distance.

Curious, I peer through the twigs, trying to get a better view. My eyes widen and my stomach drops. A wave is coming towards us. It's no normal wave, either, it's a tsunami.

I frantically break the branches that hide me, forgetting about the other tributes. With my heart pounding, I run uphill towards the desert, the water lapping at my heels.


	7. Predator and Prey

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! To those who thought I'm moving too fast, I'll try to give more detail and such. I appreciate the criticism. I may be a while updating the next chapter.

_Predator and Prey_

I pump my legs, my heart pounding. The desert is high, but the forest where the games began is higher. _That must be where we're going_, I think.

The Careers have caught up to me and are running right beside me, oblivious to the fact that I am foe, not friend. At this moment, the only thing going through their minds, and mine, is survival. The water is still biting at our heels like an angry dog. If it were to catch up to us, only the tributes from District Four, who have lived around water their whole lives, would survive. I run harder.

The trees disappear, and we're now running on the sand in the thinnest strip of desert between the two forests. I stop dead in my tracks, the water stops too, at the edge of the desert. It's no longer a danger to us. There are bigger things to worry about.

The woods where we started the games are on fire, confining the remaining eleven tributes to the desert. The Gamemakers want these games over quickly, I guess. That, or my attempts at controlling my fire were unsuccessful. I'm guessing the first.

The boy from District Eight and the girl from District Ten are running towards us, away from the fire.

While I'm taking in what's going on around me, Jayden, the two tributes from the woods where the games started, and I are suddenly surrounded by the Careers. They form a perfect circle around us, forcing us to group closely together. They examine us closely, smiling at the idea of new victims.

"Six on five," snarls the boy from Two. "This should be a good fight." A sly grin appears on his face.

Sunny, the girl from District One, turns to him. "Who going to take who, Kannan?"

Kannan examines the five of us, his expression thoughtful. "Sunny, you fight Twelve. I'll help you." He turns to the tributes from District Four and nods at Jayden. "You take him." He assigns the boy from District One (Flash) to the boy from District Eight (Milo), and the girl from Two (Dominique) to fight the girl from District Ten (Kristen). Kannan is obviously the leader because nobody challenges his decisions.

"What about her?" asks Sunny, pointing at me with her dagger.

Kannan shrugs. "We'll deal with her later. For now, we need two people on each of the big guys."

Jayden snarls, tired of being silent, and steps towards Kannan. "We're standing right here, you know," he snaps.

The boy from District Four, Kannan just called him Blue, smiles, lifting a spear. "Not for long," he says to Jayden. All six Careers take one step towards us. They seem in no hurry. They want to enjoy this.

Jayden however, has other ideas. He draws his sword and cuts Blue's arm. There's a pause, then Blue punches Jayden in the jaw. That seems to be the cue. The Careers start fighting with their assigned tribute, and the tributes inside the circle started fighting back. As for me, I do what I do best. I run. I run even harder than when I was being chased by the wave. I need to get away...

When I am a safe distance from the fight I turn around to see how it's going. I feel sick. The tributes are hacking at one another and the sand is already red. However, some of the tributes have run away from the fight like me. I can't help remembering the fight at the Cornucopia. Once again, I've been spared from a battle by my cowardly charade and the Career Tributes' stupid decision to underestimate me.

I walk for about an hour, with the forest that's still smoking on my left and the forest underwater on my right. _There will be faces in the sky tonight,_ I think. _But,_ _which faces and how many?_

I hear cannon shots. The Capitol has treated this fight like the initial fighting at the Cornucopia, not bothering to fire the cannons until the battle has ended. Four shots. I have to admit, I expected more. I try to think about who might have died. I saw that Dominique and Kristen were missing from the fight, so they probably ran. I shake my head. I can't think of anything else.

I sit down beside a rock. I sip some water and eat the remaining food. Once again, I need my sponsors. I didn't manage to get any plants while in the woods, and there probably won't be much more than mud left when the water disappears. Thinking about the water disappearing, I refill my bottles and purify them. With nothing else to do, I lean against a rock. A bird lands on a nearby boulder and starts to sing. A warm breeze blows past me. I push the fight out of my mind and smile. It's the most relaxed I've been since the reaping.

I start to think. This time, I don't think about the fact that I'm an orphan, or that I will have to kill someone to survive. I think about Peter. He kissed me. He loves me. He wants me to survive. _Remember that I love you, _his voice whispers in my head.

_Don't worry, Peter,_ I think. _I'll remember._

I realize that I'm sweating and quietly curse. This outfit was helpful in the dark, cool woods, but in the desert, it'll just be trouble. I'm too warm, and the green and black will stand out against the sand. I consider leaving the jacket in a nearby cave, but decide to put it in my backpack instead. It may be useful. Muttering unhappily as I walk, I travel the desert until nightfall. The Capitol seal appears in the sky, then the faces of the dead tributes. There's Sunny, the girl from District Four, Milo and the boy from District Twelve.

I try to picture the fight. The tributes from District Four fought with Jayden, who's still alive. After Jayden killed the girl, Blue must have run away in fear for her own life. Sunny and Kannan battled with the boy from Twelve. I think about it. The boy must have killed Sunny, then been killed by Kannan. Flash killed Milo. Dominique and Kristen ran.

There are now seven tributes remaining. Flash, Dominique, Kannan, Blue, Kristen, Jayden and me. The Careers have probably broken their alliance because of the low number of tributes remaining. If they haven't gone their separate ways yet, it's only a matter of time before one of them gets a knife in the back from another. The people from the Capitol will be betting heavily now, maybe even interviewing the families of the tributes. Kimberly must be pretty surprised, seeing that I'm not dead yet. District Seven will be proud of Jayden and I. We made it to the top seven. That's big.

I sigh. Soon, I will become the killer. In fact, if Jayden, for example, showed up now, I'd probably fight.

That of course, is the cue for Jayden to appear.

He's badly hurt, that's for sure. His arm is bleeding heavily and so are his legs. Obviously, he didn't get a first-aid kit at the Cornucopia. His eyes, however, are wild and determined. "Hello, Johanna," he says calmly, almost purring. "You're going to die now, and I'm going to kill you."

He sounds different. He's not the silent giant from the reaping. He's crazy. The fight must have made him snap. I know he means every word he's saying. I breathe, trying to stay calm. I try to think. I want to fight, but I certainly do not want to kill the male tribute from my district. How would I be able to face his family if I returned home? Finally, I think of something. "Jayden," I say. "It's not too late. We can still be allies. I can be useful. I can help you survive."

Jayden starts laughing uncontrollably. "No," he says after a few minutes. "You're useless. You're a coward. You will die, because you are weak. I am strong. I am like a wolf."

"That's a little bit ran-" I stop mid-sentence. He's started howling. He's _howling._ He actually thinks he's a wolf!

Jayden Ashfield has gone insane.

He continues to laugh as he steps silently towards me. I have a decision to make. Either I kill him, leading me to face his family if I survive the games, I run, though he'll probably just follow me, or I let him kill me, which I'm not about to let happen.

I'm actually considering trying to swim in the flooded woods to escape him when he smiles. "You're as weak as Peter," he says. "I can't imagine how that fool won the games. You might even be as weak as the District Eight girl. What was her name? Lilac? She wouldn't have lasted a day, even if she hadn't dropped that stupid ball. She deserved to die."

It seems that Jayden has decided for me.

I wait a moment before I speak. "I'm not weak," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "And even if I was, I'd rather be weak than out of my mind." Just another minute now, and he'll be within throwing range...

Jayden lets out a scream, loud and high, and runs towards me, but I'm ready. I throw my axe. Unfortunately, Jayden has quick reflexes. He dodges the weapon and it hits a rock and falls harmlessly onto the sand. He continues to run. I swing my mace. Jayden is still coming. _Will he really ignore the mace? _I think. He does, and it connects with his shoulder. He raises his sword, ignoring the obvious pain. I swing again, hitting his stomach. That does it. He falls to the ground, grimacing.

I run and retrieve my axe, then look at the sky. "Forgive me, District Seven," I cry, hoping the cameras can see me. I throw the axe at Jayden. Even though he is curled into a ball, my weapon lodges itself into his skull. A cannon fires immediately.

I feel like crying. I feel like I'm going to be sick. I feel like screaming. But I can't show any sign of remorse. I can't be a coward. Not anymore.

Steeling myself, I walk over to Jayden's body. I check his pockets, finding only some berries that I know are edible. Well, it's better than nothing. I stand, looking down at his bloody body. He doesn't look crazy anymore. I guess nobody does after they've died.

I briefly glance around me. The world is different. I'm no longer searching for predators.

I'm searching for prey.

This is what I've been waiting for. I've become the killer. I pick up my weapons, then run, beginning my search.


	8. Victims

_Victims_

I run wildly, my heart racing. I need to run. If I don't run, I'll begin to think. If I think, I'll think about Jayden. His bloody body, his wild eyes...

I shake my head quickly, trying desperately to get rid of my thoughts. I continue to run until my legs give out. Out of breath, I crawl next to a small boulder with no protection and fall asleep. I'm not thinking about the danger of being in the open. If somebody comes, I'll hear them and kill them easily.

It scares me how much my strategy has changed since I killed Jayden.

The next morning, I start to think seriously. Obviously, if I want to be a vicious killer who's going to survive, I'll need more supplies than some berries and my weapons. A first-aid kit would be helpful, as would some sort of blanket and a flashlight. I try to think about previous years. Usually, the ones with the most supplies were the Careers. They also usually had a camp. Then again, that camp was usually near the Cornucopia...

I shake my head. I certainly have plenty of sponsors by now, but most things will be extremely expensive. The people from the Capitol practically swim in money, but even they won't be able to get me everything I want and need. No, to do that, there's only one thing I can do.

I have to find another tribute and kill them.

Nobody will have a lot of supplies, but the Careers hopefully took most of their supplies when they chased me, Jayden and the boy from Twelve into the desert. There are only six tributes left, and four of them are Careers. I make five. The only other tribute is Kristen and I'm thinking that she must have luck on her side to still be alive. I could get rid of her easily if I could just find her...

There's a small crunch behind me and I spin around, axe raised. It's just a squirrel, trying to find food in the burnt forest. I smile, then catch myself. This squirrel is food. I throw my axe, but miss miserably. I groan. I guess my sponsors will still have to give me food. They can probably handle that, but if they can't, where am I supposed to find food in the desert?

_Oh my gosh, _I think. _How could I have been so stupid?_ I finally realize why the Gamemakers sent us to the desert instead of the woods. These are the perfect hunger games. In the middle of the desert, the only way a tribute can get food is through sponsors. The Careers must have plenty of sponsors, and I know that I do too, by now. However, I start feeling more and more sorry for Kristen by the second. She seems to be the only tribute left without a chance of survival...

Suddenly, a silver parachute appears above me, distracting me. I retrieve it and open the box attached. Inside lies a long rope. I'm confused, but there must be a reason Peter gave this to me. All of his gifts so far have either been messages or extremely useful. I grab one end in my hand and close my eyes, thinking. Why would I need a rope? In the end, I can think of only one thing I can do with a rope...

After two hours of fumbling, tying and cutting, I have a decent trap. If I place this correctly, it should be able to leave another tribute dangling by one leg. I put it in a place where I think it will be useful. The place is near the burnt forest, where I use a not-too-badly-damaged tree to support the trap. When a tribute walks into it, they will be brought about halfway up the tree. I disguise it with sand. Then I wait, content to sit behind a boulder until a tribute springs the trap.

Another parachute appears, containing food. There's also a pocketknife. The knife puzzles me. Why would I need it when I have an axe, a knife and a mace? After thinking about it for a few minutes, I realize two things. The first is that I have so many sponsors, Peter can still afford to send me messages. The second is that the pocketknife _is_ a message. I know what the message is, too. The knife represents killing. I'm a killer now, so I need to move. I need to search for victims.

I shudder. I've never liked the word, victim. All of the tributes here, all of the tributes there ever were, are victims of the Capitol's cruelty. When I hear it, I think about some helpless, quiet thing shivering in the shadow of its killer, which, in reality, might be exactly what will happen when someone gets caught in my trap. I consider taking it down, but think better of it. Taking it down would be a sign of caring. Caring is a weakness. Weakness is for cowards.

With my axe in one hand and my mace in the other, I begin to walk. The sun is beating down on me, and sand is being blown everywhere by hot wind. I know it should hurt, bit it doesn't. I know that I should be sweating in this heat, but I'm not. It's like ice is flowing through my veins now, instead of blood.

I hear a loud grunt from a couple of hundred feet ahead of me. Silently, I run until I'm about ten feet from the noise, then hide behind a rock. The grunt came from a boy fighting. I almost scream with happiness when I see exactly which two tributes are battling it out.

It's Flash, the boy from District One, and Kannan, from District Two. From the way they're fighting, they won't give up until one or the other is dead. This makes it easy for me. When the fight is over, I'll just kill the winner. No matter who the better fighter is, the two most powerful tributes will be dead by nightfall. I grin, hoping the cameras can see me and the Capitol can guess my plan. It gives me a quiet satisfaction for the Capitol to know who I'm going to kill before I lift a finger. I don't know why, it just does.

Flash throws his spear at Kannan, but he avoids it easily. Then, Kannan runs toward Flash with his sword pointed at him. He manages to cut Flash's arm, but it's not a fatal hit. Flash goes back on the offense. This cycle continues for about ten minutes. They're both great fighters and my legs are beginning to cramp. I'm getting impatient and I'm seriously considering throwing my axe in there before the fight is over when Kannan makes a final attempt. This time, he delivers a fatal hit with his sword. Flash falls to the ground, his blood flowing freely. A cannon fires.

Kannan steps forward. Even though his back is facing me, I can imagine the smug grin that must be on his face. "Oh, Flash," he says, crouching beside the body. "You always thought you were the strongest. Well, who's stronger now?" He stands, pauses, then kicks the body. "Answer me," he orders the dead tribute.

Does every tribute go insane after a fight or just the ones I know?

"Oh, Flash," he continues. "I almost wish you had survived with me until the final two, just so you could see me win. I wish you..." Kannan suddenly falls to the ground beside his former ally, with my axe buried in his neck. I had barely realized that I had thrown it.

I smile, stepping toward the two dead boys as Kannan's cannon fires. I retrieve my axe and stand up. "Who's stronger now, Kannan?" I ask. "I'm glad you're dead. You were just a nuisance. In fact, you were downright annoying."

Oh my gosh, I'm going insane, too. The Gamemakers must have put something in the water.

I rips both boys' backpacks off their backs. I find a couple of spearheads and some water before I discover the good stuff. There's a large first-aid kit and a good flashlight. I find a thick blanket and a pack of matches. I grin with satisfaction, then begin to walk in the direction I came from.

I find a small cave near where I placed the trap, then set up what I think is an okay camp. Inside, I put my backpack and everything else I found since the beginning of the games. The water in the flooded forest has receded just enough for me to have access to some branches. The cave is close enough to the woods that when I set up the branches in front of the opening, it looks natural. I'm pleased with my work.

The anthem will play soon, so I decide to check the human trap. When I reach it, my stomach drops.

Kristen is struggling in the trap. She's hanging upside-down, pinching and biting the rope that has her trapped by one foot. With the sun at my back, my shadow falls over her. She sees me and begins to shiver, scared because she knows that, being the youngest, weakest tribute still alive, she's helpless. I truly feel that I'm going to be sick.

I know the Capitol wants me to gloat over her. They want me to take my time. They want me to give them a real show.

Right now, I couldn't care less about what they want.

Compassion takes over and I bend down, hiding my voice by bending in close to Kristen's ear. "Don't be afraid. I don't want this to hurt," I whisper. I have to make sure the Capitol can't see my words, my act of caring, trying to help this girl die peacefully. It would ruin my reputation. "You'll fly into the sky, and be happier than you ever were here." My voice begins to crack. Kristen is twelve, maybe thirteen. She doesn't deserve to die.

She's crying, but she tries to be brave. "Just do it. I'd rather _you_ kill me than Dominique or Blue or Flash or Kannan."

"Kannan killed Flash, and I killed Kannan," I say.

Her eyes glow as I pull away. "Thank you. I hated them." This surprises me. When I look at a girl as tiny as Kristen, I can't imagine that she has the ability to hate. "They were selfish and mean and awful.

"You have to win, Johanna," she whispers. "For me, for yourself, it doesn't matter. Even if it's just to make sure a Career Tribute doesn't win. I know it's too late to be allies, but I wish we could have been. You deserve this. Win." She smiles. "I'm ready."

Killing that girl is hard. It's not the hardest part though. The hardest part is that I have to do it without crying or vomiting, without thinking that she was just a victim of my strategy. In the end, though, I do it. Kristen cannon fires and I turn around, walking back to my makeshift home without looking back.

Jayden was insane. Kannan was an enemy from the start. Kristen was innocent. It made that kill different. I try not to think about it, then I decide something. I won't care anymore. Why should I care if I killed people? I decide that they weren't really people. Kristen wasn't Kristen. She was a random girl I didn't know, standing in the way of me and home. Jayden wasn't a boy from my district, he was insane and as inanimate as my axe. I'm actually glad that Kannan is dead, he was just an unfeeling monster. The lie helps. I don't believe it, but it helps. It's all that reminds me that there's really blood in my veins, not ice.

There are three tributes left. Dominique, Blue and me. Dominique isn't any older than Kristen was, so what I really need is for Blue to kill her, then try to fight me and lose. Then I can go home. Go home for myself, Peter, Flora, Lilac and Kristen. _But no pressure,_ I think, then smile at the private joke. Wow, I'm really going insane.

The anthem starts to play and the seal appears in the sky. Flash's picture appears, then Kannan's photo. Kristen face appears in the sky and then the Capitol seal. The sky goes dark again. I turn over and try to fall asleep. After about an hour, my eyes finally close.

That night, I become a victim of my own thoughts, with my head full of nightmares. It brings a strange, dark satisfaction. Finally, I've become a victim of something, too.


	9. A Changed Reflection

_A Changed Reflection_

My eyes flutter open, consciousness freeing me from my nightmares.

_Where am I? _I wonder stupidly. _Where's the community home? Oh man, Kimberly will be mad..._

Suddenly, everything that is happening comes back in one wave. The reaping, the training, the games, the final three tributes and the three lives that I've taken so far. I shake my head, trying to clear my mind. I need to focus. Blue could be hiding behind any boulder, ready to strike. In fact, Dominique would be able to sneak up on me and kill me with my head this full. I need to think about one thing: surviving.

I look around, almost expecting another tribute to jump out of nowhere. _But, _I realize, _it will be hard to find another tribute when there are so few of us left._ Of course, the arena would be much larger if we could travel through the woods, but there's still a lot of ground to cover. This means one thing. Soon, the Capitol will drive the remaining tributes together. How they do it is different every year. One year, it was wild animals. Another year, stone walls literally _forced_ the tributes together. I need to be ready.

Suddenly, I hear a low buzzing. It sounds distant. I scratch at my ear, wondering if it was damaged somehow. Panic starts to fill me when the buzzing continues. I can't afford to lose any of my senses at this stage in the games.

Shaking my head once more to try to get rid of the sound, I turn my attention to my supplies, making sure they are in good condition. _I haven't been taking care of the weapons as well as I should have, _I think, examining my mace. There is a large crack in the wooden handle. All I can think about is what would would happen if it failed in a fight, and decide to get rid of it. The knives and axe are in good condition, though. Between my sponsors and my remaining supplies, I should have enough food. I refill my water bottles, then I nod, happy with my work. I should have enough supplies to get me through the rest of the games.

I wonder if I should look for Dominique and Blue, then decide against it. I'll need all my energy for the final fight, no matter which tribute I will be fighting. It could be both tributes that I have to deal with. The Capitol will force us together soon anyway. I know they will.

I suddenly notice the buzzing again. It's louder than before. Annoyed, I turn around to face it. Then, I turn back on my heel and run.

Tracker jackers.

There's a solid wall of them. Thousands of them coming toward me. They're a weapon that the Capitol invented during the rebellion. Wasps with solid gold bodies that hunt anyone who disturbs their nests. Their stings are fatal if too many are received. Even a single sting can cause hallucinations that often drive people to insanity. Needless to say, getting stung in the arena is as good as an arrow in the heart.

I run. I run until my heart almost explodes. Minutes pass that feel like eternities. I can feel my legs getting tired and my breath running out, but the insects are still flying after me, tireless. Somewhere in the distance, a cannon fires. I wonder vaguely is it's mine, but quickly decide it's not. Death wouldn't hurt like this.

Before now, ever since I killed Jayden, I've been confident that I would at least make it to the final two. I guess, because a cannon fired, I have, but, now, I want more than that. I want to win...

A small rock appears inches in front of me. I fall head over heels, then spring to my feet and continue to run. I know that my body won't be able to take much more of this, but I don't have a choice. I would much rather have Blue or Dominique kill me than a swarm of tracker jackers.

A fall over another rock. I try to get up again, but my body refuses. _This is it, _I think, tensing my body. _This is the end. I'm going to die. _I sit there as a minutes passes, waiting for the tracker jackers to catch up and kill me. Two minutes. Three. I open one eye, surprised by the absence of pain. The wall of insects is still there, but it's hovering just twenty feet away. Not moving toward me, just flying in one place. The Capitol is controlling them. They must have thought that the wasps had chased me far enough. That must mean there's a tribute nearby.

I place one hand on the rock I tripped over and stand up shakily. I reach into my backpack and pull out my pocketknife and the full-sized knife, holding both weapons in one hand and my axe in the other. Blue is standing just one hundred feet away from me, about twenty feet in front of a wall of tracker jackers similar to the one that was chasing me. Now, the insects form a circle around us. Thankfully, he seems just as tired as I am, but, like me, he hasn't been stung.

He has two weapons. A small sword and a spear. Using the spear, he steadies himself, then glares at me. "Did Dominique get killed by the tracker jackers?" he asks.

I shrug. "Yeah, unless you killed her," I mutter.

He smiles, then shakes his head, looking at the ground. "Poor Dominique," he murmurs, probably to himself. "Never could run, that girl."

I can feel my body becoming impatient and instinct takes over. I growl. The sound startles me. I sound like an annoyed wolf. "Are we going to talk or fight?"

Blue smiles. He seems amused. "Wow," he says, looking at me from head to toe. "You're tough, Johanna. That was probably you're strategy the whole time. Pretending to be a coward then coming out fighting. You would have made a great ally."

"Fine," I say, shrugging my shoulders and trying to ignore what he said because he didn't answer my question. "You talk, I'll fight. That makes things easier for me anyway."

He smiles again. It's a different smile. A dangerous smile. "Oh no, I'll fight. I didn't come all this way for second place." His face hardens, his eyes suddenly cold. I try to mimic the expression.

Blue runs toward me, throwing the spear when he's just twenty feet away, but he hasn't aimed properly. I dodge the attack easily. He curses loudly, standing still. I try to take advantage of the extra seconds by retrieving the spear. I pick it up and throw it, but, in the heat of the moment, my aim is worse than Blue's. Actually, he doesn't even move to avoid the spear. He doesn't have to. It flies past him, into the flooded woods, sinking harmlessly. Oh well, now he only has one weapon.

While I was grabbing the spear, both of the knives disappeared into the pockets of my jacket, which I barely realized I was wearing. Now, I remove the large knife and let my jacket fall to the sand. It occurs to me that this is probably the first year that the clothes have worked _against_ the tributes because of the climate.

Blue raises his sword and closes the gap between us. He swings the weapon toward my neck, but I block the blow with my axe. With my axe already raised, I imitate his swing, but aim at his shoulder. He jumps aside, but not enough to avoid the hit completely. The axe breaks his skin and he winces in pain.

He glares at me. His eyes are full of hatred. I realize that the only thing this sixteen-year-old boy wants now is my death.

And I want his.

We circle each other for a few minutes, examining each other, finding the strengths and weaknesses of the other tribute. Blue raises his sword and brings it down on my left arm. I'm not prepared. Pain rushes through me and I can barely keep from falling to the ground. Fear comes with the pain.

You know you're in the hunger games when you're more afraid of a teenage boy than the swarm of tracker jackers that is still flying just thirty feet behind you.

I desperately aim my axe at Blue's stomach. It draws blood, but, of course, it's not hard enough. I stand as straight as I can and make another attempt at his right arm. This time, the axe makes an extremely deep slice. Blood pours from the wound and Blue cries out in pain. This is the moment I've been waiting for. I leap toward him, trying to hit him again, but he recovers quickly. He raises his sword and brings it down powerfully, but it misses me completely. I stand, then jump toward him again. This time, I bring him to the ground. His sword goes flying. I pin his shoulders with my knees.

Blue's eyes are full of fear, but he doesn't say anything. He knows he's going to die, just as much as I know I'm going to win.

A strange feeling overtakes me. It makes me forget about all the people I promised I would win for. It makes me forget about Flora and Lilac and Kristen. It makes me forget about Peter. It even makes me forget that I'm trying to win for myself. It makes me forget about winning altogether. Right now, I can only focus on killing Blue. I don't know if this feeling comes from my own emotions, or if I like it. But I embrace it anyway.

Because it's what I'm supposed to be.

I bring my axe against Blue's skull. A cannon fires. I stand, suddenly tired, as Claudis Templesmith's voice fills the arena. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner!" he declares. "I am pleased to present the victor of the Sixty-eighth Hunger Games, Johanna Mason, the female tribute of District Seven!"

A hovercraft appears and a ladder drops. I'm frozen in place by a current until I'm inside the craft. The people aboard tell me to get some rest, gesturing to a prepared bed. Before I go to sleep, though, I see two things in the window. The first is the arena, growing steadily smaller. The second is the a wild, wounded animal staring at me through the glass. I realize just a split second before I fall asleep that it's my own reflection. It's a changed reflection. It's not the cowardly, well-fed girl Johanna. It's Johanna Mason, the killer.

Author's Note: It's not over yet! Please check back for all the post-game stuff. Trust me, it won't be as boring as you think!


	10. The Same Mistake

_The Same Mistake_

When I wake up, I find that I am lying in a white room. The only furniture in the room is the bed I am lying on. There seems to be no doors or windows. I look at my nails, my hair and my skin. They are all beautiful. I'm confused and slightly frightened, until I remember that the Hunger Games are over.

I sigh and let my head sink into a comfortable pillow. _I won, _I think. _I actually won. I can go back to a normal life. No, a better life. I'll be rich and famous. Everyone in Panem knows me now, and they'll never forget me._

A servant appears, carrying a small meal. I eat hungrily, then lay back on the bed, falling asleep again.

This continues for a while. I wake up, eat, then go back to sleep. Eventually, I decide to see if my legs can still support me after not being used for such a long time. They do. My body seems to be perfection and, even though it isn't much, I have obviously gained weight.

I put on an outfit that is lying at the end of the bed. It's the same outfit that all of the tributes wore in the arena. I put it on and, even though it is much too loose, I like it. It makes me remember my triumph. I feel like a killer again.

Suddenly, a door opens. The door is really just a panel that slides away so it looks like part of the wall when it's closed. I step through it into a hallway. At the end of the hall is a large room. I grin as I enter. Peter, Flora and Sirocco are already sitting there. Flora and Sirocco greet me politely, then I throw myself into Peter's arms. "I came back," I whisper. "I came back for you."

He smiles softly as we come out of the hug. "Yeah," he says. His whispers something else, but it's too quiet for me to understand. His eyes seem worried. I decide that it's just because he's tired.

Too soon, Flora pulls me away to get me ready for the highlights. Basically, I will sit as the Capitol shows all of Panem a three-hour version of what happened in the arena. I'm not dreading it, but that doesn't mean I'm excited. Flora leads me to the lobby of the Training Center, then up to the seventh floor. Gladius, Zeus and Athena are waiting. They hug me, congratulate me, then pull me into a dining room. I do get to eat a meal of ham and a salad, but there isn't as much food as I would have liked.

The prep team works on my makeup, hair and nails under Flora's guidance. They talk about the Games nonstop and it's hard to get a word in. Eventually, I give up on conversation altogether and let them talk. The only one who seems to have noticed that I pulled myself out of the conversation is Flora. She rolls her eyes. I reply with a tiny smile.

Flora leaves the room briefly to retrieve my dress. I turn away from the mirror as she slips the dress over me and helps me into a pair of brown flats. I face my reflection again. Flora smiles, the prep team squeals and, despite my efforts to pretend I don't care, my jaw drops slightly and my eyes widen.

I look spectacular. My hair has green stripes pinned into it, like the interview before the Games began, but my makeup is more natural. The shoes are simple, but my dress is spectacular. I suppose, in reality, it's just an upgraded version of the dress I wore in the interview before the Games, but it looks amazing. Green fabric drapes over me, covering almost every inch of my skin. It's tight from my shoulders to my waist, then flows out into a billowing skirt. The sleeves are full-length and tight. Emeralds follow the deep neckline. I don't know what I thought I would be wearing, but it wasn't this.

"You've gained more weight since the Games than a normal tribute," says Flora. "So the Capitol decided it would be okay to show off your natural figure a bit more."

She looks at the floor uncomfortably. "Is it okay?" she asks. "I know I've had this job for almost thirty-five years, but you're the first person I've worked with who... won."

I look at Flora and smile. Maybe she isn't an idiot. And maybe I'll change that opinion the next time I see a tribute dressed as a tree. But, for now, I just whisper, "I love it."

Just minutes later, after a few final touches to my appearance, I'm left alone directly under a huge stage. I think about the audience that will be watching. Hundreds of Capitol people, eagerly waiting to see me. Waiting to see Johanna Mason, the cowardly killer. I smile. The more I think about it, the more excited I become.

I step onto a metal plate and prepare myself. I hear a lot of screaming and I know that the ceremony is starting.

Caesar Flickerman greets the audience. He introduces Gladius, Zeus and Athena. They are followed by Sirocco, then Flora and finally Peter. I take a deep breath as the metal plate I am standing on moves upward.

I have to blink a few times to adjust my eyes to the light. When they finally adjust, I see thousands of people. They are all cheering for me. The rest of Panem is watching too, so maybe everyone is cheering for me. Well, with the exception of twenty-three families...

Eventually, I make my way to center stage and sit in a large, beautiful chair. Caesar talks for a few minutes, then tells me (and the rest of the country) that it's time for the show.

The highlights are always pretty spectacular. The people who have to put them together have, in my opinion, one of the hardest jobs in the country. The highlights need to be three hours long and, considering the number of fights, disasters, tributes and cameras, it simply cannot be easy.

After watching all of the reapings, chariot rides and interviews, the Games begin. I am truly amazed. I knew that I was an okay actress, but, when I watch the highlights, I look like a five-year-old who has lost her mother. I am thankful that nobody can tell what I was crying about in the little cave on the first night. If the Capitol knew that I was crying for my mother, I'm not sure what would have happened, but it probably would have resulted in my death, either from a 'natural' disaster to get rid of a true coward or from me dying of embarrassment on this stage.

Things move along quickly (even through when I showed the Capitol my skills) until my fight with Jayden. As soon as he mentions Lilac and Peter, I seem to change. After I kill him, there's a constant snarl on my face. I'm a sneaky, savage killer. I smile.

When the highlights are over, the president appears. He places a golden crown on my head and I'm sure that the cheering is loud enough to cause permanent damage. I bow and wave for about ten minutes. Caesar reminds the audience of the interviews tomorrow and I am rushed away to the president's house for the Victory Banquet.

There are too many people there and everybody seems to want to crowd around me. There are greetings, laughs and cameras left, right and center. My head is spinning. I can barely breathe. I look for Peter, but he's must not be here. So, I take a deep breath and, somehow, manage to survive the evening.

Dawn has arrived when I finally get to go back to the Training Center. I flop into bed. Unfortunately, I have trouble falling asleep and about an hour after I do, Sirocco jumps in with a smile to drive me out of bed. I scowl at her. A lack of sleep has made me grumpy and Sirocco is one of last people I want to see.

I don't get a chance to eat breakfast, which doesn't help my mood. Sirocco wisely stops talking and even the prep team is smart enough to avoid conversation. After about an hour, I am dressed in a navy blue dress with dark makeup. I trudge into a room that seems to match my dress perfectly (there are even fake blue roses), still scowling at everyone I see.

There is no live audience this time, which calms me down somewhat. Someone tells me that the interview will start in two minutes. I rush to the chair (which is slightly more comfortable than last night), and the interview begins.

I'm surprised that I find it easy to be myself, the tough, smart survivor. After a few minutes of joking, Caesar starts asking serious questions.

"Well," says Caesar. "You certainly fooled a lot of people. I mean, you acted like a coward, then turned into a killer."

I smile. "Yeah," I say. "That was the plan."

"Was it hard to trick so many people?"

"Not really. I had a great mentor."

The interview continues uneventfully, and I get ready to go back to District Seven. After a quick goodbye to Flora, I board the train. Sirocco and Peter will come with me to District Seven.

Darkness overtakes us as we move through the tunnel. After dinner and a replay of the interview, Sirocco declares that she's tired.

"You two are great at keeping secrets," she mumbles, referring to my strategy. "But I wish I had been in on it."

As soon as she's out of sight I place my head on Peter's shoulder. "I won," I whisper.

He pulls away a little bit. "Yeah," he whispers back.

Something is wrong. There must be something he isn't telling me. "I won so I could be with you, so we could be together."

He sighs. "That's what bothers me." He looks directly at me. "I'm sure you were surprised that you appeared so cowardly in the highlights, right?"

I nod.

"You're a better actress than you thought. I guess that's something we have in common."

"I don't understand," I say.

Peter sighs again. "When I kissed you, when I acted like I loved you, I was... well... acting. I don't feel that way about you, and I'm sorry if you feel that way about me.

"I just wanted the Capitol to think I was a great mentor. Since I became the mentor of District Seven, the tributes from our district have never made it to the final ten. I thought that if you thought I loved you, you would fight harder. I thought that you would make it further. I just... I didn't think you would actually... win." He looks away.

Slowly, like in a dream, I stand and walk away, without saying another word to Peter. That's when I realize that I'm not crying. The girl that was picked in the reaping would have cried about something like that. Even the girl that I was before, the girl who didn't cry at her mother's death but felt alone every night after, would have felt heartbroken. But I guess the arena really changed me, because not a single tear falls in my quarters.

Peter Lemmark dies the next day.

I sit in my room in the orphanage where I will stay until my house in the Victor's Village is ready. The Peacekeepers found Peter a couple of hours ago and they figured out that he was murdered, but they haven't figured out who did it. And I'm sure they won't, I'm smart enough to make sure of that. Nobody saw me and nobody saw my knife. They will never suspect me.

An emotion that I can't identify tightens my chest for a moment. Sorrow? Regret? _No, _I think. _It's triumph._

I smile. In the end, Peter made the same mistake as so many other people; the other tributes, the Capitol, everyone. He underestimated me. The girl that he thought was a coward.

The cowardly killer.

**The End**

Author's Note: Wow... that was kind of morbid. Well, I guess that's the end! Thanks to everyone who reviewed. It's my first story (that's not a oneshot). Thank you!


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